Pepop
by smokadecoca
Summary: A creature in the basement discovers its purpose. Extraordinary events, oddities, and bouts of gratuitous violence transpire. Adapted from Petscop and Nietzsche's "Beyond Good and Evil" (The part in Beyond Good and Evil where Nietzsche advocates for UBI and nothing else. Pepop is not philosophical or profound in the slightest. Do not read this expecting anything "good".)
1. An Approaching Mote of Garbage

Flush on his skin and caked on his pale face was a heady mixture of sweat and sebum, shining in the harsh spotlight of his crappy Aliexpress 4$ Chinese desk lamp. It flowed from his skin and fell off from his long, stringy, stuck-together dreadlocks, patchy and poop colored. He had been in the basement for several days, him and his jars of strange toxic liquids and excrement. Gaming was an untold passion and joy that was far superior to him than the normie society he left. To game is to live.

His favorite game was Pepop, a piece of shit invented by the notorious studio Poopapeeno in 1999. A true masterwork! But even here the society groped at his psyche and mangled it, complaining that the original name "Peepoop" was too obscene for small children and was "in bad taste". Of course it was impossible for rank amateurs to comprehend the sheer level of artistic capability and talent required to reconcile the several layers of irony necessary to make a name as beautiful and simple as "Peepoop". Peepoop. Even the name of the game rolls off the tongue. His mind trailed for a moment and he remembered his society-given name was "Faul". He had hoped to forget it: it was one of the few remaining links to the outside world and the land beyond the stairs.

He wondered for a moment about the Peepoop name. Should the second p be capitalized as well? PeePoop certainly seemed funnier, at first, although truth be told the word shape of PeePoop left something to be desired. No, Faul concluded. The name would be better as Peepoop. Peepoop. A good name. Strong. He hoped to eventually name his son Peepoop, when his imaginary girlfriend finally says yes to the marriage. He had already been rejected twice before. Complaining about his odor. It's hard to shower when there's no water, dummy. Dumb bitch. Femoid.

Everything that touches the light was the domain of god, and he had fully given himself to shaitan. Every night he prays five times in the opposite direction of mecca, in order to give iblis his power. Eventually, the forces of evil will grow so great that they will crawl out of the earth and cast every single normie and christcuck into a pit of fire and brimstone. And for his trouble, he will be rewarded with a kind and cute 9/10 submissive real life girlfriend who understands the value of body sweat and Peepoop.


	2. On the Game and its Lies

He instinctively started up the playstation emulator, and breathed in heavily as the vaporwave playstation logo began to play. Following afterwards, he exhaled slowly as "Poopapeeno" began slowly crawling on the screen. He could almost feel the artistic mastery of Maimer Poopanpee, leader of the Poopanpee family and head of game development for the Poopapeeno Studios Conglomerate, immerse him in it's sheer technical skill as the siren sound of the Poopapeeno logo theme played. Faul saw the stylized word "Poopapeeno" slowly move from the left of the screen to the right. This was Mr. Poopanpee at the top of his long and illustrious 62 year career, which began on a cold night in 1942 smuggling various arms to the 3 Sicilian families (the Poopelini, the Peepatini, and the Obama (incidentally, the Milwakee Chimp Event of 1944 was probably caused by a smuggled Poopanpee bomb given to the Peepatini)), and ended in 2003 after a remission of weewee cancer caused a malignant growth which led to his suicide (in Poopanpee's words: "I would rather die than let those ***s steal my weewee!"). After 25 minutes, the P of the Poopapeeno logo (stylized after an offshoot of art deco fondly regarded by Maimer, in which the letters were replaced by stylized giraffes) left the right of the screen and the main menu slowly began to appear.

Faul was 43 years old, but he didn't let a silly thing as age dissuade him from enjoying media created for small children. He burped and farted a little and then began playing the game. The little player character, Poopshitter, appeared on a road in the middle of a white, flat plane with clouds sparsely dotted along the ground. The Grift Plane. In the years of playing the game, Faul knew that he had to wait 10 minutes for the player character's initial animation of him injecting heroin with his feet (from the manual: Poopshitter's hands and most of his torso were lost in the great Grift Plane war of 1968 when 2 thrown grenades landed in his foxhole. Instead of leaving the foxhole, Poopshitter pretended he was in the Pooperbowl, grabbing the grenades like footballs and charging towards the enemy. The resulting action tore off both his arms and most of his torso, bifurcating him. However, several enemy combatants were killed and Poopshitter was eventually sewn back together under the direct order of Grift Plane President Toneld Trump, who is a large red bird. Poopshitter currently gets a meager pension including disability pay, SSI, food stamps, and has been in line with the VA over a liver transplant for 4 years. 3 months before the start of Peepoop, Poopshitter developed a crippling addiction to heroin.) to conclude.

The thing about Poopshitter, Faul knew, is that without the grenade incident he would be at least 2 feet taller and would be over the manlet cutoff. This was a big deal to Faul, who was himself only 5' 11". Because Faul knew that he would never be able to get a girlfriend due to his manlet status, Faul lived vicariously through the character of Poopshitter. He enjoyed playing as the little character, watching it limp weakly around the Grift Plane, every so often stopping to vomit or to call a family member and ask for a few dollars before screaming into the phone. Faul could never understand how Poopshitter could grip the phone without hands, but that is because Poopshitter uses his head and shoulder to hold the phone, something a phoneless incel like Faul will never be able to fully understand. After an hour, Faul arrived at the Grift Plane's VA office to collect his pension and argue with the 6 employees. There were supposed to be 48 employees total in the game, spread in 8 government offices, but development was cut and the game was released with only the first level due to unnameable constraints. After a call from Maimer, the unfinished piece of shit known as Pepop was released (see paragraph 2: "...Pepop, a piece of shit…").

In Pepop, the goal is to collect the checks from the VA office and take them home. Because of VA budget cuts and underfunding beginning under Past President Roneth Reagan and current pressident Belle Clinton, the VA employees are naturally reticent to give Poopshitter his pension money. In the game, Poopshitter uses various methods of coercion to acquire the checks: Locking Pamber in a closet, throwing water at Randall, swinging a bucket angrily at Mavey and Wallace, and finally playing a bad air guitar solo of Guns and Roses top charter "Welcome to the Jungle" in the middle of the VA lobby to mollify Ben. One of the employees, Talleth, is not in the game because he looks like a stereotype against midgets and the aforementioned soccer moms got offended. (Author's note: Gamer oppression is real and NOT A JOKE.)

Such ephermal transcendality, expressed at the routine acquiring of drug money! With every line, every input, the game seems to read the player's mind - almost literally! At some point, a ghost came out of the TV screen, but was so frightened by Faul's ugly acne ridden pimpled warty face that it screeched back to the TV. Faul rationalized this by concluding that since the ghost did not hold a one on one conversation with him, it wasn't actually a real ghost and the game was not actually haunted. Faul's intense naivete in the face of incredible danger is quite amusing, but let's not forget that this is an objective fictional work and character study which is meant to be taken 100% seriously. Humor is not in the demesne of critical thinkers such as yon author and thine reader. (Author's note: I am thinking of putting a paywall behind this fanfic. PhD's only.)


End file.
